Journal
I'm writing a book about seven years that took me from 155 kilograms and meth to where I am today. This is where I put down what comes out of that process.
Three kinds of texts.
From the book. Moments I lived through and suppressed for years. Some will make it in whole, others will be cut and stay here only.
On writing. Where I get stuck, and what happens when I have to go back to years I don't want to go back to.
On publishing. What it takes to publish a book on your own. What it costs, what I didn't know about it, and exactly where I am right now.
None of this is a guide. It's just what's happening while the book is being written.
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The tool I didn't finish a year and a half ago
A year and a half ago I started building myself a calendar for building habits.
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Don't Give Up on Dreams Just Because They Are Big
A long time ago I pictured myself going trekking in Nepal.
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I Let a Computer Draw My Own Life
I wrote myself a program that takes a book and turns it into a film.
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45 kilos in 27 months. Not a single weigh-in.
I have had a scale connected to my phone since the autumn of 2017, and everything I have ever weighed is stored in one file. It can be exported into a spreadsheet and looked at as plain text.
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But You Are Not an Addict
The first person I told that I go to an abstinence club was my mother.
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I Didn't Decide to Write It. I Decided Not to Delete It.
When I started two years ago, I made myself an outline. I wanted to know which chapters were ahead of me and in what order they would come. I will write about how I organised the writing some other time — right now something else matters.
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I Can
This photo is from 10 September 2023. That was the first time in my life I stood in the high mountains.
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The Weekend I Did Not Write a Single Word
Over the weekend I was at the Slnko na skalách festival with friends. The whole thing runs on the theme of extreme hiking — talks by people who got somewhere on their own two feet, and a programme built around that. Since hiking changed my life, I could not be missing there.
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For Ten Years I Thought the Painting Said Something Else
I took this photo on 8 June 2014. That is my room back then — the couch, the wardrobe, the alarm clock on the little table. And above the couch the painting I had had made a few months earlier.
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Nobody knew about the meth
My aunt Majka took this photo on 22 February 2019, a few minutes before we left for the ball. She suggested I go with them. It felt like an invitation to have fun, and I accepted.
